


Truth

by Spacenight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s06e09 Clap Your Hands If You Believe, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Mirrors, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27265330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacenight/pseuds/Spacenight
Summary: Dean, did you service Oberon, King of the Fairies?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Oberon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Truth

Dean walked along the street with Sam, one thought stuck in his head in a loop. “Dean, did you service Oberon, King of the fairies?”  
He hadn't. He’d shot and slashed and then he’d been back here. Back in this world. He had not serviced any kind of King. So why did the thought feel like a sore tooth, that he had to keep poking. 

With the information the Fairy Lady had given them their case was solved that same day. Or more to the truth, Dean spent an uncomfortable night in a cell being beaten up by a fairy while Sam had solved the case. He still didn’t quite get what the redcaps problem was. Just that he’d escaped? Something else?

That night in a motel room as far from that place as they could get, Dean lay in his bed wide awake. He was exhausted, he was hurting from where the fairy had laid into him, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. It felt like something wanted to break through, glimpses of light too bright to look at, of unspeakable beauty that made his heart clench in pain. He didn’t understand. He lay awake the whole night. 

Sam was driving. Dean, sunglasses on, was lounging in the passenger street, watching fields of wheat flash by. This, Sam driving, had become more common since Sam had come back. Dean usually didn’t like it. Today, he felt off kilter, somehow defenseless. Just tired, and so he didn’t mind. Slowly, the comforting purr of his baby in his ears, he drifted off. 

Bodies pressing against him. He couldn’t breathe. Everyone touching. Cooing. Laughing with wide red mouths, eyes as sparkling and cold as diamonds, faces as heartbreakingly beautiful as angels. It was too much. He fought against the hands holding him. There were more caresses, they were stroking him everywhere. The realization that he was naked ran like ice-water down his back. Something was winding around his arms, his legs, strong vines, pushing them out until he hung spread-eagled in the air, feet searching helplessly for firm ground. Memories of hell flashed into his mind and vanished in a heartbeat, driven out by a light so bright and pure it hurt. He cried out, felt tears flood his eyes, run down his cheeks. What was this! He wanted to scream when it went on, but couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs. 

Suddenly they were all gone, no one touching. No mysterious light burning him from the inside. He still hung in the air suspended, but now that he felt his breath returning he also realized that it didn’t actually hurt. He just couldn’t move. He looked around and saw that he was surrounded by mirrors. All he could see was himself, hanging in the air, the vines black on his pale skin, his green eyes huge with fright. Pretty. Too pretty. Weak. He wished he didn’t have to see himself, but every inch of space was covered by his reflection, fractured, scattered around the whole room. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

A hand was laid on his back. He flinched, then calmed. Warmth radiated from the touch. Not just warmth. Consolation. His eyes jerked to the figure behind him in the mirror. Had he thought the beings that had touched him were beautiful? They were nothing. They were like pale stars compared to his glowing burning sun. He couldn’t in words describe the form that loomed behind him, bracing him. Just the sense that he wanted to weep for the beauty his eyes beheld. 

A name rose to the surface of his consciousness. Oberon. The word soothed his worries, and he felt a cool calm descend into his frantic soul. A sigh, a word, like music, alluring. He didn’t understand but the sense of it flooded him. Thank you for offering yourself. His hands roamed all over Deans body, and he felt them there, pressing into his taint. He knew he should panic, he knew that he didn’t want this, that he should struggle. But his body was drifting, lethargy a pleasurable weight in his every limb and he let go. Oberon smiled. 

He shifted behind him and his cock pressed into Dean. It hurt. He knew it hurt. But he didn’t feel it. Just the pressure and the intensity of sensation. With every move Oberon made, Dean felt waves of pleasure batter him, raising him higher and higher until he felt a pleasing vertigo. A hand stroked along his throat up to his chin and tilted his face up. He couldn’t escape the sight of his own face looking back at him from the mirror. Oberon’s thoughts threaded through his own. Beautiful. Worthy. Strong. Tears streamed from Dean’s eyes and he could do nothing to hide them. Oberon licked one delicately from his cheek. The cresting wave broke, pleasure ripped through him like barbed wire, for a second instead of Oberon he saw Sam look back at him, sharp and fox-like. 

He woke up.


End file.
